Summary

Peren continues to have faith that he will resist and escape the Great One. However, as everyone around him falls to corruption, he begins to see the extent of the Great One’s influences.

The world can lie to you, my boy. When the sun’s light fades, and the moon can no longer shine. When the stars wish is to steer you to your folly, always trust your heart.> **

The words of his mother echoed in his head. Peren continued to run towards where he knew his brother to be. He passed by many of his fellow tribesmen along the way. How he wanted to help them. He saw a surviving group of families barricading themselves into one of the huts, boarding up the windows and gaps. He breathed a sigh of relief knowing they would be safe, but not a minute later, he could hear screams, pounding and cries for help. The cries were promptly silenced and drowned by gutteral chokes and muffled sounds of struggles. Whatever had lurked within that hut had no doubt found its way into the family’s mouths. Peren cursed in silence and kept running. Everywhere he ran was faced with more scenes of people falling to the Great One’s corruption. He saw a hunt-group around Wulk’s age being forced whole into pods, to be fed to the slithering parasites within. Their legs and asses stuck out from the mouth of the pod as they jerked and kicked violently. Worms began to crawl up to their vulnerable bottoms and forced their way into them through the back as their kicking only became more erratic….more violent…then stiff. Their legs dropped lifeless as the worms invaded their bodies. Inside the pod, Peren saw that the young hunters were force-feeding themselves with the worms within, smiling and squirming with enlightenent.

Peren knew that there was nothing that could be done for them. He needed to remain focused, for every second that he was not with his family potentially marked them as already taken. He quickly found his way to the Great Hall. Taking caution not to use the main entrance, Peren crept along the shadow edges outside the building, keeping on high alert for any of the Great One’s many hands or eyes. There was light coming from the window, and he could hear sound from inside. Someone was talking. Could it be that the Great One had yet to reach the Great Hall? Peren smiled for the first time that night, amidst his tears. He raised his head up to the window, lifting the cloth curtain cover just above his eyes. All the adults in attendance were there, as were other tribesmen, even some of the warriors and younger hunt-groups. He looked up to the speaker’s platform and saw four of the tribe’s elders addressing the crowd. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their arms were raised upwards to the air. One of hunt-groups were kneeled before them, their hands behind their heads and their heads looking down in solemn prayer. “Odd”, Peren thought. “This is not how we normally prayed to the Gods above.” As he scanned the crowd, he saw that all of the men in the room were mumbling chants, and they were all being rubbed with ceremonial oil by one of the remainig elders. Continuing to scan the assembled people, Peren didn’t make out his father in the crowd. As he thought that the procession was safe, Peren opened his mouth to call out to the older men, to warn them, but then his gut churned as he realized what the ceremony was really for.

The chanting was soft, but noticeable. Candles lit the perimeter of the Great Hall and hanging flames illuminated the space from above. “Praise….” The Elder spoke. “Praise….” The crowd repeated. “Deliver us from shadows.” The Elder proclaimed. The crowd repeated. “Deliver us!” The Elder dipped the tips of his fingers into the basin, filled with a cloudy, black oil. He licked it, breathed in the scent and the redipped his fingers back within. He approached one of the kneeling hunters and lifted his head up. “Name yourself.” The Elder demanded. “I am Serag.” The hunter answered. Serag was the captain of his hunt-group. He looked up to the Elder, his face was denoted with fear. The old, shriveled man’s eyes gave no hint of color. His bony finger reached out and touched Serag’s lips with the oil. Serag whimpered and began to turn away, but the Elder caressed his cheek, running his finger along the sides of his face, then his neck. The Elder reached back up to his ear and pulled his head back, forcing Serag to look at the Elder’s face once more. “Serag, son of Ohtenn, brother of Jouvan. Who graces the heavens?” The Elder questioned the hunter. His voice was calm, but it carried authority. The other men in the room were silent, all seated and being rubbed with oil. “Elder Gaob….you know who graces the heavens.” Serag answered. His voice was uneasy and shaking. Gaob’s face drew back and he grunted. His mouth gave in to a frown and he asked Serag again. “Serag, hunt-captain of the Tix’atic hunt-group. Who graces the heavens?” This time, Gaob’s voice was more pressing, as his hand held Serag’s head in place, forcing the young man to face his elder. Serag breathed heavily and tried to look away, but the other two skeletal elders, Borsuu and Jaali, both put one hand on Serag’s shoulders and the other on his head, holding him in place and allowing Gaob to reimmerse his fingers in the black oil. Gaob licked the oil, sniffed it and began to chant again. Serag could only look on as Gaob procurred an ewer to pour more of the oil into the basin as he chanted.

Gaob was the tribe’s foremost elder. He was the oldest, the wisest and was known to be quite the talespinner. Peren had always been fond of Gaob. Even as a young child, he and the other children would always gather around Gaob when he was in the mood to tell a story. Gaob always told the children their favorite tales first. His sessions always ended with Gaob’s cautionary tale, “The Swallowing Star”. It was a cautionary tale, if any. The tribe’s children were taught that the moral of the story was that one who shined too bright, who craved too much, would ultimately be lead to disaster. It was for the good of the tribe that everyone worked together, that everyone was equal. In this way the tribe would prosper. Gaob had always warned the children that should they leave their tribe’s lands alone, should they abandon their hunt-group when they go out, they will be met with a dark fate. The dark side of it all was that, in truth, Gaob was rather senile. While his word was highly respected, he often proposed rather unecessary precautions and was often prone to giving a fit when the other elders rejected his propositions.

The primary elder was rumored to often spend hours sitting in front of his pool of water, divininating and communing with the Sun God and Moon God, depending on the day. During the early days of the plague, he worked to try to cure those afflicted. He even derived a potion from a flower he had recently found. The Kiss of the Moon, he called the flower. The flower gave off a soothing scent, and eased the minds of those who breathed it in. It got its name from the trailing veins of white that ran up the flower’s stem, leading to a multifold burst of white petals that all grew outwards, like tentacles. It was a beautiful flower, at least, that is what Gaob thought. He continued to make the potion, even when it was clear that it would not cure the women. With so much of the potion left over afterwards, Gaob resorted to drinking it himself. The inky liquid betrayed its otherwise sweet taste. Gaob drank more of it, believing the potion to grant him accurate visions. In his visions he saw the stars move and the moon’s light grew brighter. The clouds swirled around the moon and reached out like the tentacles of an octopus. In his visions, he saw his people praising an unknown figure, delivering them from extinction. Gaob’s revelation was breath-taking. He looked at the remaining Kiss of the Moon he had growing in his chamber. The flower were so beautiful…they had began to bloom. He knew it was time. Gaob never preached his teachings, but he secretly took in disciples and apprentices who helped him plumb through the visions that the flowers gave them. The more they drank the potion, the more their minds saw. Incomprehensible realities, voices, ideas. The visions taxxed them, and they began to grow starved from their inability to care for themselves. Gaob and his followers were like walking corpses, yet they did no harm. The Tribe simply thought they were mad scholars or prophetic oracles. The tribe still consulted Gaob and his seers when they needed a vision, and Gaob always had a vision to share.

Serag remained on his knees as Gaob chanted and poured the oil into the basin. He took the basin by hand and brought it over to Serag. “Serag…I ask once more and lastly. Who graces the heavens?” Gaob looked down upon the young hunter. The Elder’s face was uncompromising and resolute. The eyes of all the men assembled were on Serag. His own hunt-group had their heads bowed down, their hands behind their head. Between their loins, hidden by the ill lighting, parasites were sucking away at their cocks. Serag looked at his own companions. Their abs were clenched tight, their chests raising with each breath. The parasites gorged themselves on his hunt-group’s seed as they squirmed, squelched and hissed with each successful swallow of their host’s essence. Serag whispered, “Please….”. Gaob remained silent. He would not ask again. Serag’s hunt-group had already been converted. The black oil that dripped and drippled from their semi-opened mouths and glossy bodies told him that much. Serag looked back at Gaob and quietly uttered. “Nixx’kli graces the heavens.” Borsuu took hold of the basin so that Gaob could drench both of his hands in oil. He gently caressed Serag’s cheeks as the young hunter began to cry small tears. “No….no….please, Sun God help me.” Serag pleaded. “Burn this darkness.” He cried out. Gaob slipped two fingers into Serag’s mouth as he spoke, spreading the oil across his mouth. Serag closed his mouth, helplessly tasting the sweet taste of the oil. As he cried, resigned to his fate, he began to suck on Gaob’s fingers. “Mmh….hhh- mmmm…..” The nectar began to win Serag over.

Unconciously, he bucked his hips back and forth. Elder Jaali produced a parasite of the Great One from his robe sleeves. He gently guided it to Serag’s cock. Distracted by the taste of Gaob’s fingers, he was rendered unable to resist the parasite as it swallowed the length of Serag’s cock. His abs tightened as it bit down, locking itself in place and jammed its tongue into his penis. As the parasite squirmed and sucked its host, Serag did the same, swaying his body and moving back and forth like an eager puppy. Gaob moved both of his oil-covered hands into Serag’s mouth, almost reaching down into the young man’s throat and eliciting a gag from him. As he withdrew his hands, Serag breathed heavily and looked at Gaob. “Who graces the heavens….?” Gaob asked. “The Great One…my elder.” Serag’s answer gave reason for Gaob to smile. The young hunter’s face still showed fear and uncertainty, but it mattered not. He would now belong to him all the same. Gaob kneeled down, his robe flaring all out. He lowered the basin of oil down to Serag’s lips. From his spot at the window, Peren could peer into the basin to some degree. He could see small leech-like creatures swimming about in the oil. “Sun God…help us all.” Peren thought to himself. It became apparent that whatever this infestation was, there was a clear cult dedicated to it, and that the tribe’s elders, especially Gaob, was leading it in capturing the uninfected, and forcing them to renounce their people’s ways. If they complied, they would be given an easier passing into the Great One’s clutches. But if they continued to resist, they would be forcefully converted. As was the case with Myeko’s family, and now Serag.

Gaob began to bend the basin towards Serag’s parting lips. What little fight was left in Serag surfaced at that moment. He broke his hands away from his head and tried to push the basin away. Bursuu quickly grabbed his wrists before the young hunter could lay a hand on the sacred oil. “The Sun God will burn away this heresy!” Serag shouted. Gaob returned to a frown and grabbed Serag’s neck, tighting his grip. The elder growled and forced the basin up to Serag’s mouth and poured the leech-filled oil into his throat. As Serag struggled, he tried to spit the oil out, sputtering everywhere. Jaali quickly swooped up the leeches and deposited them back over Serag’s face as he began to have no other choice but to drink. The recovered leeches began to crawl across his face, entering the young man through his nostrils and ears. Serag grunted and gasped for air as the foul, infected oil was fed to him. The parasite that was sucking him dry was already becoming engorged as it continued on the only thing it was good for. Bursuu hoisted Serag to his feet as he continued struggling and howling out in rage. Jaali took hold of the basin and took the role of forcing Serag to drink. Gaob rose up and snickered. “I want you to suffer, Serag. For your crimes of heresy….you will watch your hunt-group be punished first.”

The elder’s proclamaition was not a hollow one. A sickly slithering sound came as unseen figures poked and crawled about the inside of his robes. From the bottom, long centipede-like creatures began to crawl out and skitter towards the pacified hunt-group. They entwined around the bodies of the strong boys and then began to force their ways into their mouth. The hunters let out pained groans and began to twitch as the elongated insectoids tunneled through them. Once they burrowed in nice and deep, the insects began to vibrate all around their captive and deposit globules into the hunter’s body, making them convulse even more as they struggled and groaned, choking on the load. Serag watched as his hunt-group was punished. He would have cried then and there, and he continued to struggle, but the more he took in the oil, the more he wanted to see them in the clutches of the Great One’s machinations.

Gaob circled the struggling Serag until he positioned himself behind him. The elder reached down and squeezed Serag’s buttcheeks. At once, Gaob disrobed himself, revealing a bony, skeletal frame. Within the various gaps and incaves on his mummified frame were the Great One’s minions. Gaob played host to the Great One’s young as he served his god with faith and devotion. Where Gaob would have a penis was a long, trunk-like ovipositor. “For your crimes of heresy….Serag, son of Ohtenn, you will now suffer.” And with that, Gaob’s ovipositor moved with snake-like swiftness. It struck and dug deep into Serag’s asshole like a snake lunging at prey. Even as erag roared out and clenched, the ovipositor burrowed into him with the same speed. Elder Jaali forced the remaining oil down Serag’s throat and he and Borsuu disrobed as well, revealing the same skeletal figures and likeness. Jaali hugged Serag from the front, forcing him into a kiss as his ovipositor coiled around the hunter’s torso and attached itself onto Serag’s navel. Jaali’s ovipositor began to pump the Great One’s seed into the hunter. As Gaob grabbed Serag’s wrist, spreading them out, Borsuu brought forth the hunter’s father from the crowd. His glazed-over look and oil-covered body was tight. Unlike the others, those in the crowd were only in a trance and had not yet been indoctrinated. Borsuu pushed Ohtenn towards his son, forcing him to kiss both his son and Jaali, whos tentacled tongue now slithered back and forth between father and son.

Borsuu promptly rammed his ovipositor into Ohtenn. In response, the bull of a man tensed up and convulsed. Locking both legs onto the father’s waist and his hands around his chest and arms, Borsuu straddled and fucked Ohtenn in a piggy-back position. Borsuu opened his mouth and a hoard of slugs spewed forth. The vile creatures lurched forth and interrupted the kiss now and then, crawling through the gaps and into Serag and Ohtenn’s throat. Between swallowing the slugs and choking on Jaali’s tentacle, Serag and his father began to shout praises to the Great One. The more the elders fucked them, the more their minds turned. The Great One’s mantra played in their heads over and over again. Any power for reasoning began to slip from their grasp. All that the father and son knew was that they were in the process of being saved. By being fucked by their elders and allowing the Great One’s children into their bodies, they were transcending. “More…..MORE!” Serag howled. He let out a series of breathy chuckles as his body twitched and convulsed. Gaob took his turn to fuck Ohtenn, and positioned the father to face his son.. The elder wrapped his two captive men in a net of tentacles as his ovipositor seperated and fucked both of them from behind the coils. Gaob’s tongue extended out, licking the two men’s face as he pushed the father and son’s face together so that they were kissing. The elder’s mouth began to crack open like a pod, and a flood of worms emerged, spilling into his fuck-nest. The worms burrowed around and crawled into the two men’s mouth or dug deep into the coils of tentacles to find their prey’s ass, and go in through there.

The other elders around the room did the same. The newly produced swarm quickly overcame the people assembled in the Great Hall. All the while, the elders took hold of anyone who struck their fancy and began to fuck them, filling them with their potent seed. Peren peeked through the window again and saw one of the Elders, Dunalh, handling a group of four brothers and their father. He had them cocooned around him with the corruptive creep. His skeletal hands were shoved into the throats of the two eldest brothers, acting as ovipositors of their own. His own mouth produced three similar tentacles that were forced into the father’s throat, pumping him full of the corruptive substance. The two younger brothers were being used to hoist Dunahl up as his cock split open, separating into two separate tentacles. With his legs wrapped over each of the brother’s shoulders, they were furiously sucking on one of Dunahl’s cock tentacles as they moaned. From Dunahl’s back sprouted a number of tentacles that wrapped around wove around the men of his orgy, fucking their holes or forcing them to act as he wished them to.

All around the room, the elders were infecting the people in the Great Hall as random shouts and praises to the Great One were sounded out, only to be met with the reward of a tentacle or slug shoved down their throat. Peren was disgusted that Gaob had betrayed his people like this. He couldn’t fathom that a spiritual leader would purposefully bring such a sickness into the village. Another moment in, and Peren knew that he had stayed too long. He should have fled after seeing that his father was not among the sickening orgy that was happening in front of him. The uninfected youth ran off into the shadows just in time, as the Great One’s tentacles had now began to converge on the Great Hall. As Peren fled the vicinity, he made his next destination the Hunter’s Hall. His brother and father have to be there. It is the furthest place in village’s territoty. Nestled in the small seclusion of woods around the village, Peren was certain that his father and brother would be there, as would survivors. As Peren rushed through the woods towards the Hunter’s Hall, there was a shuffling in the foliage around him that he neglected. Behind the bushes was a young hunter being held down by a beast. With his mouth stuffed with a large worm, the beast was laying eggs into the young man as he moaned and convulsed.

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